


Mnemosyne

by thephilosophersapprentice



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Character Study, Ed visits Xing, Gen, Introspection, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:13:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26030014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thephilosophersapprentice/pseuds/thephilosophersapprentice
Summary: “People call us heroes. They don’t stop to think about everything that we put into it. That we are just human beings, with our own lives. Those actions weren’t divorced from our humanity, even if they did change history.”Ed isn't comfortable with the depersonalization of hero worship. Ling sees from a new perspective. Could be any ship the reader pleases.
Relationships: Edward Elric & Ling Yao
Comments: 8
Kudos: 59





	Mnemosyne

From those months on the run with Greed and the chimeras, Ling knew that Edward often didn’t sleep through the night. Usually, though, he fell back asleep quickly afterward, or got up to take a short walk before going back to bed.

The longer Ling waited and watched Edward on the balcony, the more certain he became that this was no ordinary occurrence. Edward was fully dressed, though he wasn’t wearing a coat, and Ling was reasonably sure from the lack of wrinkles that Edward hadn’t worn the outfit to bed. He hadn’t bothered to pull his hair back—it fell around his shoulders in a soft veil, moonlight reducing it to a cooler gold.

Quietly, Ling stepped outside and joined him. Edward looked up once, acknowledging his presence, then turned back to the moonlit garden.

“What are you doing up?” Edward asked.

“It’s my palace,” Ling said. He resisted the urge to test if Edward’s hair was as soft as it looked. “You?”

Edward simply huffed. Ling didn’t push the question. You couldn’t make Edward do something he didn’t want to, but if you left the door open, there was always a chance he’d decide to come in on his own.

Several minutes passed. Ling decided simply to enjoy the cool night air, the beautiful, dim vista. It was not as dark as one would think at first and Ling had been trained to watch the dark with care.

“We saved the world once, you know,” Edward said.

“Everything else is downhill after that, isn’t it?” Ling replied, with a chuckle.

Edward shook his head, hair swaying gracefully. “I’d do it again, but in honesty, I’m glad to be done with it.” He leaned against the balustrade, staring out into the garden. “They never stop to think about everything we put into it.”

“Your alchemy?”

Edward shook his head. “That was for Al. I meant blood, sweat, tears. Lan Fan’s arm. A year out of your life. Four out of mine. Five out of Al’s. How can anyone expect us to just go back, like we could still be children, after that?”

“Do you regret it?” Ling asked.

“I don’t regret giving up alchemy, if that’s what you’re asking. I’d do the rest again. I’m just not sure I’d want to.”

“Greed seemed to think you wanted _something_.”

Edward straightened up with a snort. “Don’t push me, Ling. It may have been two years, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready. It wouldn’t be fair to… to the other person.”

He wasn’t quite ready to say it aloud, then.

“You know, when I first saw you… well, I thought you were an angel. But then, I thought it was the Sage of the West returned.”

“I know, I know,” Edward grumbled. “I look like my father. Everyone and their pet goat says so.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Ling said. “I thought it must be a sign of my good fortune—even if you weren’t the Sage himself, you were golden. Immortal. And I was that much closer to the end of my quest.”

“Things weren’t that simple,” Edward said, voice sharp and rough like crushed glass. “Things are _never_ that simple. I’m not my father, whatever that might make me. I’m not some creature of legend. I sweat. I bleed. I did plenty of both for lifetimes.”

“And I’m the emperor, but we both know I’m no descended god,” Ling replied, trying to appease him.

“Why can’t people just treat things as what they are?” Edward snapped. “I am the son of a former slave. A _refugee_. And we both know that will never be more than a side note in the textbooks. Hell, for all I know, people might just attribute everything Hohenheim did to save us to me!”

“And that upsets you?” Ling let Edward’s anger wash over him.

“I _know_ what people used to say about me, that I’m an arrogant, mouthy kid. So what? I never took credit for anything I didn’t work for myself. They just saw the flash, not the hard work I put into it.” Edward gestured furiously at nothing. “People call us heroes. They don’t stop to think about everything that we put into it. That we are just human beings, with our own lives. Those actions weren’t divorced from our humanity, even if they did change history.”

“Has this been simmering a long time?” Ling asked.

Edward hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then he nodded. “The provisional government wants to put up a memorial. I wrote a letter to them requesting that it focus on the names of people who died that day on both sides, or at least the names of everyone who fought, but I get the feeling that it’s going to be a statue. So I wrote to the press, and now people are writing think pieces about how I only ‘seemed’ brash as a kid, that I’m actually a humble person, and I am _sick of it_. I know I’ve always been an excellent source for propaganda, that I’m politically relevant even if I’m no longer on active duty, but I am sick and tired of people recognizing me or thinking they know me because they read a couple articles in the newspaper.”

“I didn’t know you felt that strongly about it.” If Ling thought about it, being the Son of Heaven was not that different. But that was how politics worked in Xing. Even though Amestris didn’t elevate their heroes to godhood, it seemed that things weren’t that different.

“Just because I don’t bother half the time, people think I’m an open book. I’m the earl of repression.”

Ling was quiet for a long time. Edward did not break the near-silence or interrupt the soft sounds of night birds and insects.

“Now that’s out of your system, do you think you can go back to sleep?”

Edward huffed. “That wasn’t what was keeping me up. I don’t have much of a consistent sleep pattern any more.”

“I remember you woke up during the night a lot, but you always went back to sleep—”

“I don’t need to sleep as much now.” Edward sighed. “I was sleeping for Al too then. Sometimes I’m just alert at night, and now I can’t fall asleep when that happens until that changes or I tire myself out.”

“And tiring yourself out?” Ling rolled his shoulders. “It’s been a while since I had a decent spar.”

Edward shrugged. “Didn’t want to wake anyone up. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s the host’s responsibility to be attentive to his guests.”

Edward leaned on the balustrade, his shoulders hunched. “Thanks.”

Ling touched Edward’s shoulder in acknowledgement. He really couldn’t avoid touching Edward’s hair at the same time. It was just as silky as it looked.

They didn’t speak again until the sun had risen.


End file.
